New York, Part Deaux.

We woke up earlyish on Sunday, had some coffee and kolacky cookies (I can't find the word "kolacky" in the plural, so there you have it), layered ourselves fully, and set out to shop. I found a lot of stuff that I loved at the first store we went to, but I didn't want to spend all of my money on the first day so I settled for a long wool J. Cr3w coat and a shorter green tweedy Gu3ss coat that has really great buttons and detailing. They were both under twenty bucks. The store was called the Buffal0 Exchange, and I guess it's a chain. Some new stuff, some used stuff. It was chock full of hipsters and bargains. We each left with a full bag, and headed back to the restaurant where K works to drop them off in the office. We got on the subway and went into Manhattan, where we stopped at a Japanese version of the Gap. the name of that store escapes me, but I liked a lot of their clothes. The fitting rooms had long waits, so after a couple of unsuccessful attempts at new jeans I picked up a skirt and a few pairs of socks that were on sale and we got on our way.
The next stop was a place that was full of stuff I really wanted and didn't remotely need. Pearl River, I think it was called. The clothes were ridiculously expensive, but the dishes were very cool and all reasonably priced. I picked up a coffee cup and two bowls (ours keep breaking in the dishwasher. Note to self: No more dishes from fucking Target).
I got a call from the b.h. saying that the band was at the club and they were planning on eating at Katz, the deli famous for its giant pastrami sandwiches (and also for the famous faked orgasm scene in When Harry Met Sally). We stopped by the club to say hello, but chose to eat at a more vegetarian friendly restaurant in the East Village.
Again, I do not remember the name, but it was a full-on veggie place, complete with some kind of shitty "natural" and "healthy" substitute for coffee (as fucking if). K was hilarious. She texted her friend M, who had recommended the place, swearing to get revenge.
Our waitress was slow and not terribly professional, but the food was remarkable. We both had dessert, too. After that we went back to her place to get cleaned up and dressed for the show.
When we got back to the club, it was a thousand degrees inside, which was bad because I had dressed for the cold and immediately started having a panic attack. I went backstage and dumped off a few layers and my coat and was much more comfortable. We ordered a draft for K and a bottle for me, which came to fourteen dollars. Ouch. Then we realized that we had left the cigarettes on her kitchen table, so we ran across the street to buy another pack. $9.25. For C@mel Lights. I have no idea how regular people can afford to smoke there. Luckily we ran into a friend and former Athenian Chris, who was putting the band up for the night. He bought a round for K and me.
The show was great, despite the fact that Donnie had mostly lost his voice. The crowd seemed to like it, too. Afterward K and I went up the street and got the most incredible falafel I think I have ever eaten. It was cheap and delicious, and it made up for the overpriced beer. When we got back to the club, K was accosted by two homeless guys who had earlier harassed her while she was out smoking. I blew past them and opened the door of the club, only to be told by the surly bouncer that there was "NO FOOD ALLOWED INSIDE!"
I told him to get the guys off of us, and he consented to let us hover by the door and eat while the band loaded out. This was made more difficult by the fact that I had bought a sandwich for the b.h., too. I stood there starving, unable to either eat (too messy for one hand) or set one down (pitas are not built to lie down), until K finished and was able to assist me.
We all split up for the night, the b.h. coming with K and me in a cab while the rest of the band went with Chris. It was nice to have the b.h. back, even if just for the night. Made the air mattress a little fuller and me a little warmer. We had a glass of wine, watched an episode of Laverne and Shirley, showered, and turned in.

The Starting Gun.

It went off at seven in the morning, at which point the dogs rolled over and looked at me like I was crazy (I was). I hit the snooze button (twice), then dragged my ass downstairs to make coffee. It was still dark outside, which I found highly upsetting. It was also raining steadily, which the boys found upsetting, because they had to go out in it in order to pee.
I went the lazy route and re-heated Friday's coffee in a pint glass in the micro-wave. I was too tired to care how awful it was. I tried to put my suitcase in the car surreptitiously, after feeding the dogs and putting a bit of half and half on their food to distract them. It didn't work. These are smart animals. First they thought "we" were going somewhere, and they got really happy. Then when they realized that only I was getting in the car, they got upset. I left as quickly as possible.
Despite the rain my drive to the airport was fairly easy. I got there and went to the economy parking lot, where I drove up and down every row in the "A" section before landing a spot at the very back.
As I was getting out of the car and retrieving my suitcase from the back seat, I was passed by a courtesy vehicle - I use that term loosely - which was completely devoid of passengers. I flailed my arm for a moment in hopes that it would stop. It didn't. There were no other people in the whole parking lot. I walked to the terminal in the rain, dragging my bags and my coat and cursing the courtesy vehicle, which I found parked on the near side of the lot, the driver smoking a cigarette and talking on the phone.
There was no line at check-in. I checked a bag ($15) because I was bringing two bottles of wine and a tube of toothpaste that was 4.19 ounces for K.
Security was fairly easy since I had left anything questionable (like potentially deadly shampoo and conditioner) in my checked bag. I was therefore quite surprised when I was pulled from line after walking, shoeless, through the metal detector.
"Is this your bag?" asked the young man behind the screening counter.
"Yes."
"Would you come over here with me?" He led me to one of those small cubicles where they open your bag behind a partition so small that everyone in line can see exactly what you've brought. I was more confused than worried, because, as I said, I had packed most of my stuff in my checked bag and had only cold medicine, kleenex, and reading material in my carry on. He rummaged around for a moment, then smiled sheepishly, flapped the bag shut, and handed it back to me.
"Have a good flight."
"Uh... thanks." I pulled my boots on (not to self: D0c Martens not the most convenient footwear for the airport), grabbed my bag, and sat down in the "now that you've been man-handled here's a chair where you can put your shoes on and try to regain your dignity" area. I peered curiously into my bag, wondering what might have given the man pause, and then discovered that I had grabbed my portable cd player out of the car in case of emergency (like a screaming child). The b.h. has the iP0d and I didn't want to be stranded without music. I'm sure that they don't usually find people flying with antique electronic devices, and it probably looked like a potential hazard.
The plane began boarding as soon as I had finished my bagel and cream cheese. I had chosen the window seat in the last row so that I would board quickly and be able to fall asleep without fear of drooling on a stranger. Unfortunately there was no window in the last row, so my claustrophobia was in full gear by the time we took off. Also, the flight was full and the guy next to me was pretty tall and angular, all elbows and knees reaching into my personal space. Luckily I had taken an antihistamine prior to boarding and promptly passed out, missing the pretzels and soda and waking up only when the turbulence started to get serious, which was a minute or two before touchdown.
My bag popped out at the claim area as soon as I got there, and I wove my way through various rip-off artists trying to get me a "flat fee" ride to Brooklyn (only $55!) to the cab stand.
Seventeen dollars (plus tip) and fifteen minutes later, I pulled up in front of the restaurant where K works.